


Universal language

by maxwellandlovelace



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Dirty Talk, F/M, swedish!peeta
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-27
Updated: 2018-03-23
Packaged: 2018-07-18 10:10:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7310770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maxwellandlovelace/pseuds/maxwellandlovelace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peeta's Swedish ancestry is never more obvious than when he's passionate about something. And Katniss loves his dirty mouth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ett

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as a drabble on tumblr, when I was prompted to write Peeta talking dirty in my native tongue.
> 
> The chapters are written chronologically, but can each be read as a stand-alone.
> 
> Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own The Hunger Games, nor any of its characters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations at the bottom.

I push my hands through his curls as he puts his head in the crook of my neck, catching his breath. His blonde hair has turned a shade darker from sweat and I love letting it slip through my fingers. As much as I love having him inside me and how his fingers and mouth can bring me such pleasure, it's these moments, right after, that are my favorites. It’s these moments that show that our attraction is more than physical, and that we connect on other levels as well.

 

Peeta and I have been seeing each other for almost a year now, and I don’t think I’ll ever grow tired of having him close to me. He brings such steadiness to everything he does, and when he was there to pick up the pieces after I lost my dad in a heart attack a couples of months ago, I knew that he was it for me. He helped me take care of everything: from planning and cooking the food for the funeral to holding me during my nightmares and drying my tears.

 

“Helvete!” he exclaims. He does this sometimes. Peeta’s ancestors are from Sweden and his parents have been very insistent that he and his brothers learn the language. They’ve even been there a couple of times. Peeta is fluent in both languages, but when he’s in a heated argument or in the midst of passion he sometimes throw out Swedish words without thinking. Some, I’ve learned, like ‘helvete’ means ‘hell’. But most of the time I’m completely clueless.

 

“What?” I ask.

 

“Nothing. That was so good,” he says, pulling himself up to support his weight on his elbows and plants a kiss on my nose.

 

“We both know you only curse in Swedish when you’re upset about something. Spill,” I challenge him.

 

“What? You don’t believe I thought it was good?” he questions, with a hint of a smile dancing on his lips. “Du vet att jag älskar när du kommer på min kuk,” he whispers in my ear.

 

“English, please.”

 

Instead of translating he starts kissing my neck, letting his tongue slide across my throat and between my breasts. “Jag älskar dig, Katniss.”

 

“I love you, too.” I would answer him in Swedish; he taught me once, but the pronunciation is hard. He lets out a breath and raises his head to look me in the eyes, his ocean blues connecting with my grays. He looks nervous and starts fumbling with the drawer to the nightstand. I furrow my brow in confusion.

 

“I was going to do this sooner, but I couldn’t help myself from having my way with you. You looked so amazing in that dress and I couldn’t wait to tear it off you and...” He trails off and look down on his clasped hands.

 

“Peeta.” I cup his cheeks and tilt his head up. “Get to the point.”

 

He gives me a shy smile and asks, “Vill du gifta dig med mig?” I have no idea what he said but when he opens his hands to reveal a golden ring, the language is suddenly universal. I don’t even have to think about the answer.

 

“Ja!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Helvete - Hell
> 
> Du vet att jag älskar när du kommer på min kuk - You know that I love when you come on my cock
> 
> Jag älskar dig - I love you
> 
> Vill du gifta dig med mig? - Will you marry me?
> 
> Ja - Yes


	2. Två

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you papofglencoe for your amazing betaing skills and for your overall awesomeness!
> 
> Translations at the bottom.

I sigh in exasperation as I fiddle with the clasp of the necklace; my trembling fingers keep me from locking it behind my neck. I’m about to give up when a set of warm hands envelops mine and fastens it for me.

 

“I told you. You don’t have to be nervous,” Peeta says in his usual calm voice as he trails kisses on the side of my neck. I tilt my head to grant him more access, revelling in the feeling of his tongue on my skin.

 

“I’m not nervous,” I say, but I’m not sure who I’m trying to convince.

 

“I think the dishes disagree with you.” In an attempt to think of something else, I did the dishes this morning, but in my nervousness I managed to break two glasses.

 

“Damn it, Peeta. I said I was sorry.” My voice shakes, and tears threaten to ruin my make-up.

 

“Förlåt,” he says sincerely, kissing my cheek. “Look what I made you.” He pulls out a crown of flowers and places it on my head. “It’s a ‘midsommarkrans.’”

 

Today is midsummer’s eve. Apparently it’s a big celebration in Sweden, and we’re spending the afternoon and evening with Peeta’s family. We haven’t told them about our engagement yet but are planning to do it tonight. To add to everything, his mother does _not_ like me. The feeling is mutual. We’ve managed to stay clear of each other the past year, but I don’t know how she will react to me marrying her son.

 

“Thank you.”

 

“You know there’s an old saying that if you pick seven different types of flowers on midsummer’s eve and place them under your pillow, you get to marry the love of your life,” he tells me with a smile.

 

“I’ve already got that one in the bag,” I say, wiggling my left hand in front of him.

 

* * *

 

It will be a pretty large gathering with many of Peeta’s relatives coming. But we want to tell his mom and dad first, before the larger crowd arrives, so we make sure to be at his parents’ house before that.

 

“Mamma, Pappa,” Peeta looks at both of his parents. “Katniss and I have decided to get married.” He doesn’t make such a big deal about it, which I appreciate.

 

His dad is the first to embrace him. _Not so unexpected._ “Well congratulations, son.” Then he turns to me. “Welcome to the family, Katniss.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

His mother doesn’t do or say anything; she just stands there with pursed lips.

 

“Aren’t you happy for me, Mom?” Peeta asks, seemingly breaking her from her stupor.

 

“Will she be taking your name?” she asks accusingly, barely acknowledging my presence.

 

Peeta’s surprised at her question. “Well, I don’t know. We haven’t discussed it yet.”

 

“Just make sure she signs a prenup,” she says and leaves the room. It’s hard to believe that someone so inherently good as Peeta came out of that witch.

 

Peeta’s father walks after her, stopping at the door frame. “I’m sorry, Peeta. You know how your mother is.”

 

“Yeah.” Peeta exhales and turns to me. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why she’s acting like that.”

 

I move to stand in front of him, letting my hands rest on his chest. He’s so handsome in that white shirt and gray slacks, but he looks defeated. “Don’t worry about it, Peeta. Your mother is a small price to pay to be able to spend the rest of my life with you,” I say honestly, and that manages to coax a smile from him.

 

* * *

 

The Swedish midsummer tradition is weird. Grown-ups singing drinking songs, drinking ‘snaps’ and dancing like children around a pole decorated with flowers. And the pickled herring. Peeta tried to convince me that it’s like ‘Swedish sushi’, but that tasted _nothing_ like sushi.

 

We’re sitting around the long table, decorated with both Swedish and American flags. There were other dishes besides the herring, so I’m pretty full, but I still have room left for dessert. Peeta made a traditional strawberry cake with whipped cream and custard. I love it. Thanks to all the ‘snaps’ and other types of alcoholic beverages, people are pretty buzzed after the cake.

 

Some guests notice my ring and casually start talk to us about the wedding. Well, Peeta does most of the talking for us, but I can’t help but notice that his mom does _not_ contribute to the conversation.

 

An unexpected smile creeps onto her face as she chuckles to herself.

 

“What’s so funny?” Peeta asks.

 

“I’ve always wondered why the Swedish word for ‘married’ is ‘gift.’” Peeta’s Swedish ancestry comes from his dad’s side, but she’s spent enough time with the Mellarks to understand most of the words.

 

“Mamma, knip igen,” Peeta snaps. He looks angry, and a silence falls across the table.

 

“Now it all makes sense to me,” she finishes, ignoring her son.

 

Peeta gets up from the table, making a point of pushing the chair along the floor, creating a loud sound. “I’m not taking this anymore. Not from you.” He grabs my hand, and together we leave the house.

 

As soon as he closes the door behind him I ask, “What did she mean by that?”

 

“It was a not-so-subtle insult,” he tells me.

 

“Why?”

 

“You know the Swedish word for ‘married’ is ‘gift,’ right?”

 

I nod.

 

“Well, it also means ‘poison.’”

 

“Oh.” My hand flies up to my mouth.

 

“Yeah. Oh.” He laces his fingers through mine, and we start walking home. We’ve both been drinking and the weather is nice, so the walk home will do us good. When we pass his parents’ garden their midsummer pole catches my eye. It looks sort of like a cross but with rings of flowers hanging off the short ends.

 

“You know that’s a fertility symbol?” Peeta doesn’t want to talk about his mother and neither do I.

 

“Really?”

 

“Yeah, it was supposed to help the crops for the rest of the year.” He chuckles to himself. “Don’t you see it, Katniss? It’s a huge cock they plunged into the ground. The rings represent the balls.”

 

“What?” I ask in disbelief. “You’re just trying to fool me.”

 

“I swear I’m not.” He holds up both his hands.

 

I look back to the pole. When he points it out, I can’t really dispute him. I turn to Peeta. “A _huge_ cock you say? I’ve seen bigger,” I smirk, glancing down at his crotch.

 

When I look back at his face, I see surprise — but mostly desire. He pulls me into the forest and pushes my back against a tree, just out of eyesight from people on the road.

 

“You can’t say stuff like that and expect me to not do anything about it,” he groans and starts kissing my chest.

 

“That was my intention,” I say truthfully. At that, he hikes up my dress and starts stroking me through my panties. It feels so fucking good, but I want to hear his voice. “Say something dirty, Peeta,” I pant.

 

“Du är så våt,” he growls in my ear. I don’t know what he said, but it makes me wetter. “Aren’t you glad that you decided to go for a dress tonight?” he asks.

 

“Yes,” is all I can muster before he pushes my underwear aside, dragging his finger through my folds. My hands automatically go for his belt to unbuckle it. I’ve done this so many times before that it doesn’t take long before his pants drop to the ground.

 

“Så jävla sexigt,” he whispers, hoisting my legs up, and I lock them around his waist. He grabs himself and drags the tip of his erection along my clit and entrance before pushing into me.

 

We recently stopped using condoms because I started taking the pill, and to be able to feel every ridge and vein of his cock, without barrier, is amazing. He slams into me once more, and I cry out in pleasure. I don’t care if his relatives hear us. Let them. Especially his mother. “Peeta, more.”

 

“I love the way you say my name,” he says, moving the fabric of the dress to expose my breast. He swirls his tongue around my nipple while grabbing my ass with both of his hands. I won’t last long, not with the way he’s fucking me against this tree.

 

The familiar tingle in my lower belly is spreading, and I know I’m so close. So is Peeta.

 

When I start clenching around him and my orgasm washes over me I gasp in his ear, “Du gör mig så kåt.” That does it for him, and I feel the heat of his release filling me, making my own orgasm even more intense.

 

We’ve both come down from our high when he asks, “Where the fuck did you learn that?” He can’t keep the smile off his face.

 

I slide my hands up his arms and stand on my toes to give him a kiss. “That’s my ‘hemlighet.’”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Förlåt - I'm sorry
> 
> Mamma - Mom
> 
> Pappa - Dad
> 
> Knip igen - Zip it
> 
> Du är så våt - You're so wet
> 
> Så jävla sexigt - So fucking sexy
> 
> Du gör mig så kåt -You make me so horny
> 
> Hemlighet - Secret
> 
> \----------------
> 
> I'm maxwellandlovelace on tumblr. Come talk!


	3. Tre — Face the music

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally written for d12drabbles on tumblr with the dialogue prompt: “Hey! I told you - no touching.” (I tweaked it a little bit.)
> 
> Translations at the bottom. Massive thanks to @papofglencoe for your amazing betaing skills, friendship and unwavering support!

The coffee in my cup is probably cold by now; I’ve been sitting by the kitchen table, staring at it the entire morning.

 

“Something wrong?” Peeta’s voice pulls me from my trance.

 

“What? No.” I can’t tell him what’s bothering me. He’s the only one I  _ can’t _ tell. “I’m fine, just a little tired.”

 

“Okay.” He doesn’t sound entirely convinced. “Listen, I’ve got to get going,” he says, locking his eyes on mine. “You sure you’re alright?”

 

“Yes, I promise.” I will get over this. It’s  _ one _ night. 

 

When Peeta’s putting on his jacket, I walk up to him and start caressing his back. He turns around, a look of surprise on his face, but I capture his lips in a kiss before he can say anything. I push my tongue against his mouth, and he instantly opens it to let me in. When my tongue brushes against his, I can’t help the moan that escapes me. In response, Peeta grabs my arms, pulling me a little closer, and his action makes me ache for him even though he’s right in front of me. I bury my hands in his hair and push my chest against his. I’m still wearing my nightshirt, and he can probably feel my nipples through the fabric.

 

When we finally break apart it’s Peeta who speaks. “What was that for?”

 

“Nothing,” I say innocently, wiping my bottom lip with my thumb. “Just hope you have a good day, is all.”  _ And hope that my lips will be the only ones you think of tonight. _

 

“I’m not buying that. But tonight, I will finish what you started here,” he says, moving his hand back and forth between us. Unfortunately, he won’t be able to keep that promise.

 

“Okay, see you tonight,” I quickly respond, hoping that he’ll leave because I can’t keep up this facade for much longer.

 

“See you tonight.” He gives me a quick kiss on the mouth. “I love you.”

 

“Love you, too.” I try to give him a reassuring smile when he turns around to leave.

 

Tonight is Peeta’s bachelor party, and, knowing his brothers, there will be strippers. He has no idea; his brothers and some of his friends are whisking him away this afternoon, and he probably won’t be home until tomorrow morning. I am not keen on beautiful women grinding themselves on him the entire night. I trust him completely, but I’m also aware of how gorgeous he is, and I don’t appreciate some of the looks women give him.

 

During the day I pace around the apartment, not knowing what to do to keep my mind occupied from what will happen tonight. I’m a science teacher, and this week it’s spring break, leaving me with nothing to distract me from my worries about tonight.

 

By the time I know the boys will have picked up Peeta, our apartment is spotless. Apparently cleaning is the only way for me to cope with restlessness and nerves. There is nothing left for me to clean, so I decide to finally give in and start watching Game of Thrones. My students always talk about it on Mondays, and I’m curious as to what’s so fascinating. There are six seasons, so I guess I have the entire night covered. About four episodes in, there’s a buzz from my phone. It’s a text from Peeta.

 

_ Peeta: Did you know about this? _

 

_ Katniss: Yes. But you’re having a good time, right? _ I hope the sarcasm doesn’t come off from the text, because honestly, I don’t want him to have  _ too _ much of a good time.

 

The second buzz is not a text, but an incoming call.

 

“Hey.”

 

“Hey. Is this why you were acting so weird this morning?” I can hear music in the background.

 

I don’t want to ruin the night for him, but I can’t lie to him either.

 

“Yes. I’m sorry.” I feel so ashamed, and I’m glad he can’t see my face right now. “I  _ want _ you to have a good time, Peeta, but I know what people usually do at bachelor parties, and I don’t like...”

 

“Hey, listen.” His voice is as calm and steady as ever, and he doesn’t seem to be upset with me. “Whatever you’re feeling, no one can tell you that you can’t, alright? Never apologize for being honest about how you feel. And if you want me to, I’ll come home right now.”

 

I should have known. All the strippers in the world can swing their tits in front of him, but Peeta loves  _ me _ . He’s coming home to  _ me _ .

 

“No, have fun tonight. I mean it. Go watch some ladies take their clothes off.”

 

“Okay, but you know there’s only  _ one _ lady I’m interested in watching taking her clothes off.”

 

For the first time today, I feel relaxed, and I think I fall asleep on the couch before the next episode finishes.

 

* * *

 

I’m slowly awakened by a hand slowly rubbing small circles on my back. When I open my eyes I’m met by Peeta’s soft blue ones.

 

“So you decided to finally watch Game of Thrones, huh?” It’s still playing on the TV.  “You must have been desperate.”

 

I can smell some whiskey on him, but he doesn’t seem drunk.

 

“What time is it?”

 

He presses the home button on my phone on the table. “1:15.”

 

I put my hand on his cheek, feeling the light stubble. “You’re home early. I thought you’d tumble in here in the wee hours of the morning, drunk as hell.”

 

He chuckles. “Yeah. The guys kept insisting on getting me lap dances and stuff like that, but I wasn’t feeling up to it. I think Finnick had a good time, though,” he smirks.

 

I pull his face toward mine, connecting our mouths. The subtle taste of alcohol on his tongue sends a jolt right to my center, intensifying my need for him. He sits down on the couch next to me and pulls me over his lap, sliding his fingers over my breast and gracing my nipple through the fabric of my T-shirt. He groans into my mouth when he feels that they’re already hard, anticipating his touch.

 

He’s just as aroused as I am. I can feel his hardness, and I desperately want to rid us of all our clothes. A crazy idea strikes me. An idea that I would never even entertain of going through with if it weren’t for Peeta. It  _ is _ his bachelor party, after all.

 

I break the kiss and stand up.

 

“Hey, where are you going?” he asks, trying to catch my hand in his, but misses as I walk away from him. His voice is husky with a hint of desperation.  _ Good. _

 

“You stay right there,” I say, pointing at him as I turn the TV off. He doesn’t say anything or move anywhere, only holds up his hands in compliance. I take my phone and quickly find the song I’m looking for and put it on repeat. It’s a song from the ’80s by a popular Swedish band. 

 

When Peeta recognizes the song by its characteristic synth, his head falls back and I move to sit on his lap, putting my mouth by his ear. “It’s not a real bachelor party without a lap dance,” I whisper, licking his earlobe.

 

The only response I get is a groan, and it gives me more courage for what I’m about to do. I really have no idea what I’m doing, so I hope I’m not making a fool of myself, but the look of complete awe on Peeta’s face is all the encouragement I need.

 

I stand up and start swaying my hips to the rhythm of the song. I don’t have the best clothes for this, only the T-shirt and sweatpants I’d changed into before starting what I’d intended to be a marathon watch. But I guess I’ll have to make do.

 

I turn around, giving Peeta a view of my backside as I slowly thread the shirt above my head, revealing the bra underneath.

 

_ Jag vill känna din kropp emot min, höra pulsen slå _

 

I feel his hands on my waist, warm and soothing, but I immediately push them off. I turn around and put my arms on the back of the couch on either side of his face, leaning down and put my mouth by his ear again, knowing that I’m giving him a perfect view of my cleavage. “There will be no touching, mister.”

 

“Oh, you don’t know what you’re getting yourself into, miss,” he responds, a wicked smile spreading on his face. I probably don’t, but I can’t stop now, and I’m grateful the darkness is concealing my blush. I can practically hear the pounding of my heart, erratically beating in my chest. I don’t know if it’s from nerves or excitement. Probably both.

 

_ Din mun tätt emot min, hjärtat snabbar på _

 

I grab the tie he’s wearing and pull him with me so his face is close to mine, but I’m careful not to let our lips meet. I want to kiss him so badly that my heart starts racing at the feel of his breath on my skin. But I restrain myself and loosen the tie, pulling it over his head and pushing him back against the couch.

 

_ Jag ser på dig och du ser på mig _

_ Och jag säger ja ja, jag vill ha dig _

 

I lock my eyes on his and try to convey how much I want him by not letting my eyes flicker as I straddle his lap and start gyrating my hips against his. His gaze doesn’t waver either, and there is no denying how turned on he is. The way he looks at me sends a rush of bliss right through me, down to my very core, soaking my panties.

 

_ Jag vill känna din kropp emot min _

 

He’s too fucking overdressed for my liking, so I start unbuttoning his shirt. His hands are clutched to his sides, and it’s obvious by how they keep twitching that it’s taking everything in him to sit idle. As soon as the last button is undone I swiftly unclasp my bra, flinging it away. My hands automatically go to his perfectly chiseled chest, and my fingers thread through the fine hairs there.

 

_ När vi två blir en _

 

I let my breasts grace his chest, my nipples hardening instantly at the touch. Peeta lets out a groan and slams his head on the back of the couch in defeat. I grind down on his cock once more before moving from his lap and dropping to my knees in front of him, unzipping his pants and pulling him out from his boxers.

 

I don’t hesitate to take him in my mouth, enveloping as much of him as I can. I don’t hear the music anymore. All of my senses are invaded by him. His sounds, his smell, his taste.

 

Peeta usually threads his hands through my hair as I suck him off, but he’s apparently taking the “no touching” rule very seriously. It took everything in me to remove his hands the first time, and I don’t think I could muster enough willpower to deny him that again. To me, the game is over. All that drives me now is my desire for him. I’m sure it was a terrible excuse for a lap dance anyway.

 

When he carefully starts bucking his hips, I release him, giving the head a lick before kissing my way up his abdomen, chest and neck. He swiftly flips us over so that I’m lying on my back and he’s hovering above me. I close my eyes in anticipation of what’s to come, but he doesn’t do anything. His head is right above my chest and his lips are painfully close to one of my nipples. I arch my back, urging him to touch it. I don’t care how, I just need it. But he pulls back his head.

 

“Peeta...”

 

“Hey. You told me - no touching. Now you have to face the music.”

 

“But...” I pout, hoping he’ll change his mind, but I know he has already won this one. He was right when he said I didn’t know what I was getting myself into.

 

“Take off your pants,” he demands. All I can do is obey his request, so I quickly shuck off my sweatpants. He doesn’t help me, only watches me, and it’s remarkably arousing. All that’s covering me now is a pair of white cotton panties, and he can probably see how wet they are because he swallows hard at the sight.

 

“Hmm, how will we take care of this predicament?” he muses, moving his head to my ear and whispers, “Touch yourself.”

 

I need some release, so my hands go directly to the juncture of my thighs, and I start rubbing through my panties. My fingers are a lame substitute for his, but right now I just need  _ something _ .

 

“No,” he chides me. “Underneath.”

 

I’ve never done this in front of him, and I’m surprised that I’m not feeling more embarrassed about it. But I’m so horny right now, that if he’d ask me to run down the streets naked, I probably would.

 

My fingers automatically go for my clit, flicking it up and down, and I let out a moan at the direct touch.

 

“Push one in,” Peeta tells me huskily, his intense stare only spurring me on. I push my finger inside and try to imagine his cock in its place. I’m so wet it easily slides in, and I add another finger.

 

“Tell me what you want, Katniss,” he whispers in my ear. His breath on my skin causes goosebumps to break out all over my body, and I wonder how he does it. How the sound of my name on his lips can leave me completely at his mercy.

 

“I want...” It’s hard to form coherent sentences. “I want you. Jag vill ha din kuk,” I pant. I’m surprised that I managed to remember that Swedish sentence, considering my state of arousal.

 

“Fuck this,” he growls. His voice is dark and dripping with desire. His lips crash into mine, and his hand grabs my breast, kneading it with just the right pressure. My hips start bucking as a pressure inside me starts building.

 

Peeta grabs my panties by the waistband and pull them down. I lift my hips to help him, but I keep finger-fucking myself.

 

“Oh my fucking god,” he gasps, and I open my eyes, stealing a glance his way. He’s looking down at my pussy as he strokes himself.

 

I stop my ministrations, hoping he will catch on. Of course he does; he can read me like an open book. He grabs my legs, putting them on his shoulders and lines up with my entrance.

 

“This will be fast.”

 

“Just the way I want it,” I respond immediately, impatient to feel him inside me.

 

He instantly drives into me, and I’m surprised by the force, but it doesn’t hurt. “Fuck yes, Peeta!” I cry out when he fills me completely. 

 

_ När vi två blir en _

 

He slams into me once again, and this time  _ he’s _ the one who can’t keep quiet. “You feel so good. You’re fucking perfect,” he groans.

 

He picks up the pace, and I try to meet his thrusts the best that I can, but it’s difficult in my position. Besides, Peeta likes taking control in bed, so I let him.

 

Every thrust of his hips brings me one step closer. Closer to what I want. To what I need. A drop of sweat from his forehead falls on my cheek, and it drives me even more, knowing that he’s working so hard to bring me, and himself, to climax. All I see is his blue eyes piercing mine as he writhes above me.

 

His movements grow wilder and more savage as he brings us both closer. This is so much better than my own fingers, and I’m sure he knows it. I can’t control any part of me anymore. I want him. I need him. He’s so fucking gorgeous, so fucking sexy. All those thoughts probably escape my mouth because he lets out a string of  _ fucks _ and other expletives himself. I don’t hear all of them. I’m too far gone to comprehend anything but his cock moving inside me.

 

When I feel a pressure on my clit, the pleasure spreads throughout my body, and in a moment of complete bliss, the only thing that leaves my mouth is his name. Over and over again. At this, I feel his come filling me, and a second rush of heat prolongs my orgasm even more as Peeta fucks me through his own release. Coming together like this doesn’t happen often, so I savour every second of this moment. When Peeta stills his movements, he puts his forehead against mine and closes his eyes.

 

“Helt otroligt...” he sighs.

 

We lie still for a while, catching our breaths. My legs are still on his shoulders, but neither of us make a move to change position. I’m perfectly content with lying like this for the remainder of the night.

 

But Peeta eventually moves and slips out of me, leaning back on the couch. It hits me now that he’s still wearing most of his clothing while I’m butt-naked, so I wrap a blanket around me and curl into Peeta’s chest as the music keeps playing in the background.

 

“Best. Bachelor. Party. Ever.” He’s still recovering. I can hear it in his voice and feel it in the way his heart pounds.

 

“You sound experienced.”

 

“I’m not. It was the only one I’ve ever been to. But I can’t imagine anything topping  _ that _ .” I smile to myself and kiss his cheek. “Who taught you Swedish, by the way?”

 

“I told you. It’s a secret.” I think it would be pretty awkward for both of them if Peeta ever finds out that it was his brother who taught me the dirty Swedish phrases.

 

He puts his finger underneath my chin and tilts my head up. “Snälla?” he pleads, giving me his best puppy dog eyes.

 

“I’m not gonna fall for that, Peeta,” I say, ruffling his hair.

 

He lets out a breath through his nose. “Fine, don’t tell me,” he relents.

 

“Aww, poor baby,” I say, pulling myself up to sit on his lap and peppering his face with kisses. “Is there something I can do to make it up to you?”

 

A devilish grin spreads across his face. “I can think of a few things,” he smirks, subtly lowering his eyes.

 

“Again?”

 

“I’m a young man, Katniss. I can do this all night.”

 

And so we do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> Jag vill ha din kuk - I want your cock
> 
> Helt otroligt - Incredible
> 
> Snälla? - Please?
> 
> \------------
> 
> The song is called När vi två blir en by Gyllene tider
> 
>  
> 
> Jag vill känna din kropp emot min, höra pulsen slå
> 
> Din mun tätt emot min, hjärtat snabbar på
> 
> Jag ser på dig och du ser på mig
> 
> Och jag säger ja, ja, jag vill ha dig
> 
> Jag vill känna din kropp emot min
> 
> När vi två blir en 
> 
> \-----------------
> 
> I want to feel your body against mine, hear the pulse beating
> 
> Your mouth close to mine, the heart is racing
> 
> I look at you and you look at me
> 
> And I say yes, yes, I want you
> 
> I want to feel you body against mine
> 
> When we become one
> 
> \----------------
> 
> Let me know if you want to hear the song. It's a classic here in Sweden!=) I'm maxwellandlovelace on tumblr.


	4. Fyra

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got inspired when I watched the World Cup (I’m still salty for that kick-goal, btw) and took my own spin at it. Endless gratitude to papofglencoe for betaing and for being a wonderful person overall.
> 
> Translations at the bottom.

A pair of warm hands envelops me from behind and settles on my stomach. The gesture is comforting, and I lean against Peeta’s chest.

 

“Good morning,” he whispers against my neck, giving it a wet kiss.

 

“Good morning,” I respond, resting my head on his. “Do you want coffee?”

 

“Yeah.” He gives me another kiss before letting go and takes a seat at the kitchen table as I hand him a cup.

 

“Here, you’ll need the energy,” I smirk.

 

Yesterday was my birthday, and boy, was it my birthday. Peeta had the entire day planned; breakfast in bed, a walk to the meadow where we had a picnic, and dinner at the restaurant where we had our first date. Whenever there was some time to spare, if only for a couple of minutes, he made sure I was fully taken care of. And I mean _fully_. I don’t know how many times his hand found its way down my panties, his fingers getting me off in no time. Hell, he even had time to go down on me in an alley outside the restaurant. I thought it would be hard to relax in that environment, afraid that someone might see, but it actually made it even more exhilarating, adding to the excitement.

 

I didn’t know it was possible to come so many times in one day. And then the evening came. We had an unconventional dessert. No cake, but Peeta had prepared frosting, which he decorated me with, and then licked off. Every. Last. Bit.

 

So he definitely needs some coffee now. Especially since his brothers are coming over later this afternoon.

 

“Thanks.”

 

I walk around him, putting my hands on his shoulders, and start to massage him. I put my lips by his ear, nibbling his earlobe. “I had a really great time yesterday. Thank you.”

 

He rests one of his hands over mine, squeezing it. “You’re welcome.”

 

“When are Ryan and Luke coming?”

 

“After lunch. The game starts at three, but we’re gonna watch the pregame show too. That’s fine, right?”

 

I run my hand through his tousled hair. “Of course it’s fine.”

 

Today is the first game in this year’s World championship in ice hockey. As luck would have it, Sweden and USA ended up in the same group. Peeta absolutely loves hockey. And even though he has more American blood running through his veins, when he watches hockey, he’s 100 percent Swedish.

 

He’s one of those who stands up and screams at the TV if he thinks the referee makes the wrong call. He’s usually very composed, but when watching a game he can become feral, and seeing that side of him is remarkably arousing. I know very little about hockey; I’ve gathered some of the terminology from Peeta’s tantrums at the TV, but I don’t know what all of them mean.

 

“Thanks. Would you mind taking out my jersey? I need to hit the shower.”

 

“Which one?” Like I don’t know.

 

“Very funny.”

 

Peeta owns two hockey jerseys; both are reserved for very special occasions. I swear, if he could only save two material things from a burning building, he’d choose his jerseys.

 

There’s the number 5 Detroit Red Wings jersey with _Lidstrom_ written on it. The other is yellow with three blue crowns on the front. On the back is the number 21, together with _Forsberg_. I grab it and put it on the bed for him. He’s still in the shower. The image of Peeta naked with water cascading down his perfectly sculpted chest and abdomen sends a thrill through my body, soaking my panties. Considering how many times he took me yesterday, I’m surprised how easily only thinking of him naked turns me on. And I’m planning on acting on it tonight.

 

Around 1 p.m. his brothers knock on the door. They’re just as infatuated with hockey as Peeta is, and they have their own Swedish hockey jerseys. Luke has a similar yellow one with _Salming_ on the back, while Ryan’s is dark blue with yellow crowns and _Lundqvist_ written on it.

 

“Hey Katniss,” they say in unison as I open the door. I still have a hard time looking them in the eye. Apparently my and Peeta’s little forest rendezvous on midsummer’s eve was not lost on them. They’ve been teasing Peeta mercilessly, but he takes it in stride. _I’m not embarrassed about showing my fiancee how much I love her_ , I think he puts it.

 

“Which one of you is driving?” he asks as he walks to the fridge, grabbing a couple of beers.

 

“I am,” Luke responds.

 

“If you want, I can drive you home,” I offer, knowing how much the three brothers enjoy watching hockey and drinking beer together.

 

“You don’t have to do that,” Peeta says.

 

“I know. I want to.” The heartwarming smile on Peeta’s face makes it all worth it. “It’s not a problem.”

 

“You chose a good one, Peeta,” Luke says, taking a bottle from him.

 

“I know.” He captures my lips in a brief kiss.

 

Peeta and his brothers have similar appearances: blonde hair, medium height and broad shoulders. So when all of them sit down in the couch with almost identical sweaters, they look like triplets.

 

“Hold on, I’ve got to take a picture of this,” I tell them and quickly grab my phone. As soon as I’ve snapped a photo the pre-show starts. ”Really? They start 90 minutes before the game?”

 

“Yeah, they have to go through the rosters, injuries, strategy, and stuff like that,” Ryan says.

 

“Come on, Katniss. Why don’t you join us? I’ll explain all the rules,” Peeta offers.

 

I take a seat on the side of the couch, putting my hand on his shoulder. “I’m gonna grade some papers. I’ll come back when the game starts, okay?” I’m not that interested in the rosters or injuries; I don’t know who the players are anyway.

 

“Okay.”

 

Pressing my lips to his, I give him a couple of quick kisses.

 

“Hey, break it up,” Ryan interrupts. “It’s not like this the forest outside Mom and Dad’s,” he teases.

 

A blush creeps up my neck, but Peeta chuckles, flipping his brother off.

 

* * *

 

It’s almost three when I finish the last paper. Perfect timing. We’ve converted the walk-in closet to a small office, so I can work from home when I need to. In one of my closets I’ve tucked away a new sweater. I’m surprised that I’ve managed to keep it hidden from Peeta the last couple of weeks, considering he does the laundry as often as I do.

 

I put the sweater on and walk out to the living room.

 

Luke is the first to notice me, and the beer almost comes out through his nose. “Peeta, I think you have to call off the wedding,” he chuckles.

 

“What?” He first looks at Luke and then me. I try to keep a neutral face as he inspects my clothing, wrinkling his nose.

 

“What are you wearing?” He tries to sound annoyed, but I hear the amusement in his voice.

 

“What? I thought it was customary to wear the sweater of the team you’re rooting for. I’m an American, hence my team USA jersey,” I reason. It’s only part of the reason, but I’m saving the other part for later.

 

Peeta snorts. “Fine, but you’re gonna be sorry later when you realize you chose the wrong team.” I walk around the couch, careful not to let anyone see the back of my jersey, settling next to Peeta, and he rests his arm around my shoulders. “You’re a traitor,” he says, not looking away from the TV.

 

“I’ll make it up to you later,” I whisper in his ear, licking his earlobe. He turns to me, giving me a smirk before shifting his focus back to the game.

 

* * *

 

It looks like Peeta is going to have to eat his words, because after almost two periods the score is 3-1 to team USA. Then Sweden is awarded a power play.

 

“Fucking finally,” Peeta lets out.

 

“That’s the first time that blind zebra did anything right,” Ryan agrees.

 

“What did he do wrong?” I ask Peeta quietly.

 

“Slashing. He hit the opponent's stick with his own. The referee has been letting it slide the entire game, so it’s about time.” Peeta’s been shooting daggers at the TV the entire game.

 

“Yeah, because you are so impartial,” I say sarcastically.

 

“Please, anyone with eyes can see that the referee is on the American payroll.”

 

The power play doesn’t start well for Sweden. They’ve been passing the puck around for a couple of seconds when the referee blows the whistle.

 

“Oh come on!” all the Mellark brothers exclaim in unison.

 

“Det där var för fan inte offside,” Luke says in defeat.

 

“Pucken var ju inte ute!” Ryan follows.

 

“See?” Peeta says, quiet enough for only me to hear.

 

I only understand one word. I know what offside is, I think, and apparently that was the reason the play was called off. But the next time Sweden gets the puck they score, and the cheers from the three grown-ass men next to me are deafening.

 

Peeta sends me a smirk as he sits back down on the couch. “Nervous?”

 

“No.” It’s not because I don’t think that Sweden can’t catch up; it’s because I really don’t care. I’m just watching this because I know how much Peeta loves it. And I know he wants me by his side.

 

At the end of the game, the score is still 3-2 to USA, and the Swedish team takes a timeout. When they start playing again I count six yellow players.

 

“I thought they were only allowed to have five players.” Earlier in the game they got a penalty for having six players on the ice.

 

“We pulled the goalie. You’re allowed to have five players and the goalkeeper. If you take the goalie out, you can replace him with another player,” Peeta explains. “It’s kind of like a last-ditch effort to try to score. It’s a gamble because the chances are pretty high that the other team will put the puck in the empty net.”

 

Despite being so absorbed by the game, Peeta’s been very patient, keeping his promise and explaining every rule that I don’t understand.

 

The gamble pays off because after three periods the score is 3-3. But apparently someone has to win, so it’s five minutes overtime and then shoot-outs. But it doesn’t get that far. Apparently my team scores, leaving Peeta, Ryan and Luke sulking as they watch the wrap-up show.

 

As promised, I drive Peeta’s brothers home, and when I come back, Peeta’s collecting the empty beer bottles.

 

“Hey. I’m just gonna take these out. I’ll be right back,” he says, giving me a kiss on the lips. “And this better be gone when I get back,” he continues, grabbing the fabric of the jersey I’m still wearing.

 

As soon as he’s out the door I hurry to the bedroom, ridding myself of all my clothes, including my underwear, and then put the jersey back on. It’s long enough to cover my ass, the hem reaching mid-thigh.

 

When Peeta comes back he first sends me a glare, but when he notices my bare legs his expression morphs into something I can’t quite describe.

 

“What?” I say innocently, trying not to show how wet I’m getting by his look.

 

“I don’t know if I’m supposed to get turned on or…”

 

I take his hand, guiding him to the couch. “Sit down.” He does as he’s asked, his eyes never leaving me. “Close your eyes.”

 

When he does as he’s told I straddle him, putting my hands on his shoulders and showering him with kisses. I can feel his hardness through his pants, and I grind on him to get some friction. He groans into my mouth, and there’s a subtle taste of beer on his tongue.

 

When we break apart he opens his eyes. “Do you have a problem following easy instructions?” I smirk. “Keep’em closed. Or I might have to send you to the box for two minutes.”

 

He lets out a chuckle, closing his eyes.

 

I take his hand, bringing his fingers to my mouth, sucking on his middle and forefinger as I would his cock. Only thinking about it makes me ache for him so I rock my hips again. But it’s not enough. So I move his hand to my pussy, dragging his fingers through my wet folds, and I moan at the contact.

 

“Katniss...” he sighs.

 

“Are you still having problems with my clothing?”

 

“Only that you’re still wearing any,” he murmurs, his voice dark and sultry. I release his fingers, but he keeps them moving, teasing my clit. It feels so good, and I never want him to stop.

 

“Peeta,” I pant.

 

“Tell me what to do, Katniss.”

 

He wants me to say it. I’m not good at this; I don’t have Peeta’s gift for words, and I don’t think my voice is sexy at all. I can’t talk in bed the way he does.

 

“I want...” I don’t know how to put it. “Jag vill ha dig.”

 

“Jag vill ha dig också,” he says huskily, pushing his fingers in and causing me to moan his name. To steady myself I let my hands rest on his shoulders, rocking my hips back and forth. The feeling of his fingers inside me is indescribable, and the circling motion his thumb makes only adds to the sensation.

 

“Yes, Peeta!”

 

“Do you know how good you feel?” he grunts, keeping his eyes closed.

 

I’m desperate for release, and Peeta knows it. He curls his fingers and speeds up his motion with his thumb. “I’m so close,” I gasp, frantically bucking my hips against his fingers.

 

“I know. I can feel it.”

 

That does it for me. The pleasure runs through me in a moment of complete bliss as the waves of my orgasm spread throughout my entire body. I’m completely at Peeta’s mercy, and I love it.

 

After I’ve stopped shuddering I shift my focus to Peeta. He’s still wearing all his clothes, too much for my liking.

 

“You know, I think you’ve earned yourself a penalty too,” he says, pulling me toward him and capturing my lips in a kiss. My hands automatically go for his cheeks, feeling his five o’clock shadow. His light stubble is so sexy.

 

“What for?” I ask when we break apart. His lips are puffy and glistening from our kiss, making me want to devour them again.

 

“You walking around, showing off your legs like that. You know that’s my weakness.” His fingers travel along the outside of my thighs, as if proving his point. “That’s ‘unsportsmanlike conduct.’”

 

“Really?” I say, raising my eyebrows.

 

“Yes, that’s two minutes in the box. Minimum,” he says, his eyes full of hunger.

 

“Hmm.” I reach down between us, easily unbuttoning his pants and grabbing him. “Well if I’ve already broken the rules, I might as well go for ‘holding the stick’ too.”

 

His head falls back against the couch. I take it as an invitation, so I move back, settling in front of him between his legs. He lifts his hips to help me remove his pants and underwear. I waste no time and instantly take as much of him as I can.

 

I love sucking him off. How he tastes, the sounds he makes, knowing that I’m the only one who can elicit that kind of reaction from him. It’s remarkably empowering. I swirl my tongue around him, sucking the head while grabbing him at the base, squeezing lightly.

 

His hands find their way to my head, and he buries them in my hair, gently guiding me and setting the pace. I love when he takes the lead, showing me how he likes it. How he wants it.

 

“I love your mouth,” he sighs. He’s getting close.

 

I release him, locking my eyes on his. “You taste so good, Peeta.” I lick the tip, not breaking eye contact.

 

He puts his hands on his face, rubbing his eyes. “You can’t say stuff like that. Come here.”

 

I climb back up on the couch, my knees on either side of his hips. Our lips easily find each other, and he plunges his tongue into my mouth. I let him in, my hands tugging at his hair, and his hands rest on my waist, caressing the skin underneath the jersey. When I slowly start grinding on his cock he moans, and his sounds make me eager for more.

 

I think Peeta feels the same way because when I rise to sit on my knees, he instantly grabs himself, lining up with my entrance. When I lower myself on him, we both cry out in pleasure. Despite being together for this long, having sex with Peeta, in a way, always feels like the first time. I can’t believe it can feel this good every time. He never disappoints. I lock my hands around his neck to steady myself, allowing me move faster.

 

We’re both close, so I move my hips with determination, making sure he hits as deep as possible. Once in a while he thrusts into me, and I wail his name in response.

 

He skates his hands up my stomach and grabs my breasts, squeezing them with just the right pressure.

 

“This sweater needs to go now,” he growls in my ear. I have no choice but to do as he says, so I pull it over my head and toss it on the floor, leaving me completely naked. His tongue instinctively finds one of my nipples, and he lavishes it like a man on a mission.

 

His tongue, his hands, his cock. Everything is too much for me to handle, and as I feel the familiar pressure building in my lower belly Peeta thrusts into me harder. Deeper.

 

“I’m almost…” is all I can muster before it snaps inside me, sending a second orgasm throughout every part of me. I contract around him as he fucks me through my release, not once slowing down.

 

Once I’ve come back to my senses I still feel him hard inside me, reminding me that he hasn’t come yet. Here I was planning on repaying him for yesterday and I haven’t even made him come once, while I already did. Twice.

 

“Förlåt,” I say before climbing off of him, settling between his legs.

 

There’s confusion in his eyes before I take him in my mouth. Then it’s transformed to pleasure as I lick the underside of his cock and make sure to swirl my tongue around the head. He’s doing his best not to buck his hips, and one of my hands travels up his abdomen, feeling his muscles contracting at my touch.

 

“Katniss, I’m gonna...” When his cum hits the back of my throat, I eagerly swallow. He shakes as I suck the head and squeeze the base, doing my best to prolong his pleasure as much as I can.

 

When I release him I climb back up, embracing him in a long hug. His hands travel up my back, making me shiver.  “Why did you apologize?” he whispers in my hair.

 

“I just… ” I don’t know how to explain it. “I’m so selfish.”

 

“What do you mean?” He pulls my head back so he can look into my eyes.

 

“I wanted to repay you for yesterday, and I didn’t...” He puts his finger on my lips, silencing me.

 

“First of all, what I did yesterday I did because I wanted to, not because I was expecting anything in return.” I should’ve known. Of course he didn’t expect anything. He’s a much better person than I am. “Second, if I did, this would have done it.”

 

With a couple of sentences he’s changed my mood completely, from guilt to happiness. “I love you,” I say, kissing his nose.

 

“I love you, too.”

 

I don’t have any clothes here, so I reach down to the floor and pull on the jersey I discarded. I get up from Peeta’s lap, walking to our bedroom, exposing the back of the sweater to him.

 

I’m at the door opening when I hear his voice.

 

“Hey?” I feel him behind me, his breath on the side of my neck. “If you were planning on me wearing this jersey, I’m sorry, but that’s treason.”

 

“What? No, this is mine.”

 

“Then why does it have my...” He stops mid-sentence when he realizes.

 

When I ordered the sweater I made sure to add the name _Mellark_ on the back. After his mom brought it up on midsummer, Peeta and I have discussed it briefly. He says that it’s completely up to me if I want to change my last name when we get married. I’ve been mulling it over for quite some time, reluctant to drop the name my father gave me. But he’s my past. Peeta is my future.

 

I turn around, looping my arms around his waist and pressing my cheek on his chest. “I belong to you, Peeta. My heart, my soul, my body. I want to belong to you in every sense of the word, including my last name.”

 

He kisses the top of my head. “You know, I think I like this jersey after all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> Det där var för fan inte offside - That wasn’t offside, for fuck’s sake
> 
> Pucken var ju inte ute - The puck wasn’t out
> 
> Jag vill ha dig - I want you
> 
> Jag vill ha dig också - I want you too
> 
> Förlåt - I’m sorry
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! Please drop me a line to let me know what you think.


	5. Fem

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> papofglencoe is a great beta, but above all she's an amazing friend and wonderful human being. <3

I can’t fucking believe it. I’m marrying Peeta today. I’d never thought I’d get married. My future is with him—I’ve known it for a while—and today we’re just making it official. The only thing I’m having doubts about is this ceremony. It feels weird, promising myself to one person for my entire life.

 

It’s not that I don’t love him, because I do, but you never know what’s going to happen down the road. All I know is that I love him, and that’s all I can promise him. He knows that, but today still gets to me.

 

I’m still looking at my reflection through the mirror when there’s a knock on the door. It can only be a number of people. I have no family, but Peeta wanted his brothers here. They’re the only ones who are attending the ceremony, except for the judge. I didn’t want a big wedding with a large crowd. All I want is Peeta. So we agreed on a small ceremony with only the two of us and his brothers. To be honest, I want them here too. In the time Peeta and I have been together they’ve grown on me, and I consider them both my friends.

 

But I can’t seem to handle even this little thing. Peeta’s brothers are the only witnesses, so when I open the door I’m not surprised to see Ryan there. I guess he’s the stand-in bridesmaid.

 

“Hey.”

 

He doesn’t say anything, only stepping inside the room. He drags his fingers through his hair before his gaze settles on me.

 

“You know, I didn’t go through all of this trouble to see my brother get stood up at the altar.”

 

“It’s not an altar.” _Thank god._ “And I’m not standing him up.”

 

“Sure looks like it.” He’s an easygoing guy, but when it all comes down to it, he’s Peeta’s brother.

 

“I’m not. I just need some time before… Wait. What do you mean ‘you didn’t go through all of this trouble?’”

 

“Do you have any idea how troubling it is to have to think what you tell him when you guys… you know? We’re brothers and all, but I don’t need to know that.”

 

I burst into laughter. The thought of Ryan feeling uncomfortable with teaching me some dirty Swedish words is kind of hilarious. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him blush, but this apparently gets to him.

 

I don’t care if my dress gets wrinkled; I give him a hug.

 

“It’s just a piece of paper, Katniss. Nothing will really change after today. You guys already live the married life. Today you just put it in writing.”

 

“Thank you.” I needed this; someone to remind me that today isn’t such a big deal. We’re celebrating our love. That’s it.

 

“No problem. And at the ceremony, when you’re finished, you tell Peeta this.” He whispers a few Swedish words in my ear. I don’t know why he’s whispering; there’s no one else here, but I’ll remember them for later. It can’t be something bad, right?

 

“Okay. I’ll be out there in a few minutes.”

 

Ryan leaves and I’m alone again. I can do this. It’s Peeta, for fuck’s sake. I love him.

 

I straighten out my dress. It’s not white. That would be the epitome of hypocrisy, walking down an aisle wearing something that symbolizes innocence. Instead, I went for a soft orange. Yes, it is because it’s Peeta’s favorite color. But I’d much rather be wearing something that _I_ chose, because I wanted it, than preserving a tradition I don’t care about.

 

Peeta hasn’t seen it yet. At first I tried to convince him that it was bad luck for him to see it before the ceremony, but considering I’d tossed pretty much every other wedding tradition out the window he didn’t buy it. So I gave him a blowjob instead.

 

When I open the door all of the Mellark brothers stand in a group. Luke is leaning against the wall, while Ryan seems to be in the middle of telling Peeta something. He stops abruptly when Peeta turns his head to me as I approach the trio. I’m still not entirely convinced that they’re not triplets. But my eyes go directly to Peeta, who’s the only one who looks at me in pure awe. I’m doing the right thing, marrying him. He’s everything I wanted, everything I didn’t realize I wanted. He’s… everything.

 

Both Luke and Ryan disappear from my field of vision as Peeta walks up to me, enveloping me in his arms. “I love you.” His warm breath tickles my earlobe.

 

“I love you, too.”

 

“Are you ready?”

 

“Yes.” And I mean it with all of my heart. He takes my hand, squeezing it for comfort, but I don’t really need it. I can’t wait to be able to call him my husband.

 

We walk together, hand in hand, to the woman who will conduct the wedding. Apparently they always do this in Sweden. No one gives the bride away. I like it.

 

The ceremony is short and personal. She doesn’t mention that we’re supposed to love each other for all eternity or till death do us part. Neither Peeta nor I wanted that. We wanted our vows to be promises we know we’ll be able to keep. To be honest, I only hear fractions of what she’s saying. My attention is solely on Peeta.

 

When it’s time for the vows, it’s Peeta who speaks first. “Katniss. I don’t know what to tell you that you don’t already know.” He’s been holding my hand the entire time, and now he puts it to his lips, kissing my fingers. He’s trying so hard not to cry, his eyes already turning red. “You are my everything. Spending my life with you is a dream I never want to wake up from. You’re my inspiration, my hope, my love. You’re my partner in life and the one I lean on for support. I love you with all of my heart.”

 

His hands are trembling. Or are mine? I’m doing such a poor job. I’m already a mess, tears running down my cheeks. I didn’t expect to be affected like this, but Peeta’s words go straight to my heart. I shouldn’t be surprised. I didn’t even think of going with a waterproof mascara. “You’re ruining my makeup,” I choke, carefully removing a tear at the corner of my eye.

 

Peeta only smiles, taking the handkerchief from his breast pocket, and carefully wipes away my tears. “Who cares?”

 

I take his hand, kissing the knuckles, the same way he kissed mine earlier.

 

“Peeta.” I take a breath, knowing that I’ll need the strength to be able to do this. “Jag är inte perfekt—långt från det. Jag kan inte lova dig evig lycka, för vi vet båda att det inte alltid är lätt.” Something lodges in my throat, and I need to pause.

 

Swallow. Breathe.

 

Peeta squeezes my hand, and it’s all I need to find the courage to continue.  “Vi kommer att bråka och irritera oss på varandra, men du är min bästa vän, min jämlike, min livspartner. Och jag vill alltid vara vid din sida. Jag älskar dig.”

 

This time it’s Peeta’s cheeks who are wet. I don’t care if it’s the middle of the ceremony; I pull him into my arms, and he buries his face in the nook of my neck. We lean on each other for support, just like we always do. We stand like that for a couple of seconds before we compose ourselves and let the judge continue.

 

She says something about the symbolism of the rings, but I don’t listen. Every part of me is focused on Peeta. The blue rings of his irises and all of the emotions hiding behind them.

 

When we exchange the rings, of course I mess it up. I drop his, but Peeta picks it up and helps me put it on his finger. He doesn’t slip up; he’s a natural at this, easily sliding the ring on my finger.

 

After, the judge says a few words and declares us lawfully wedded. Peeta doesn’t wait for her to announce that he may kiss the bride. I don’t like that line anyway. As soon as she says ‘husband and wife’ he cups my face in his hands, bringing my lips to his. They’re as soft as ever, warm and welcoming. The kiss is brief; there are witnesses, after all. And when his lips leave mine, I tug him to me again and whisper in his ear, “All makt åt Tengil, vår befriare.”

 

When I pull back, Peeta looks at me in confusion, then in shock as his eyes widen as he seems to realize something. _What the fuck did I just say?_ He looks to his brothers, and I follow his gaze. Ryan has a smug grin on his face. But Peeta doesn’t act on it, instead getting our marriage certificate from the judge before taking my hand. Luke and Ryan are behind us as we walk out of the room.

 

Peeta spares a glance back to Ryan, pointing a finger at him. “You’re lucky this is a rental,” he says, referring to his suit.

 

“Or what? You’ll tackle me to the ground? You can try.” He’s still wearing the same grin.

 

Peeta just sends him a glare. _He knows._

 

Did Ryan just trick me into letting Peeta know that he’s the one who taught me all of those Swedish dirty words and phrases?

 

“What’s with the hostility, man? If anything, you should be _thanking_ me.”

 

Peeta snorts, but a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. _Thank fuck._

 

We have a car waiting outside the courthouse to take us to the reception, but before we leave, Peeta gently pulls my arm. “Can we talk?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“There’s no time for that now, bro.”

 

“We’ll be right back,” Peeta says, pulling me with him to the room I used before the ceremony. As soon as the door closes behind us he envelops me in one of his trademarked hugs. Peeta gives the best hugs. He’s skilled with his words, but he can be so well-spoken without saying anything at all, too.

 

When he releases me he gives me the kiss we both wanted earlier. I grip his arms as if my life depended on it while his hands lock around my waist. There are heels on my shoes, so I don’t have to stand on my toes to reach his mouth. I suck on his tongue, and he lets out a groan. If I’d been wearing lipstick it would be completely smeared and half of it would be on Peeta’s face by now.

 

I pull away from him and clear my throat. “You wanted to talk?”

 

“Not really. I just wanted some alone time with you before the reception. We probably won’t get much of that until after.”

 

“I’m sure we can find a private corner.” I don’t think I’ll be able to keep my hands to myself the entire night.

 

“You think?”

 

I put my mouth by his ear. “Yeah. Before we leave the party, I’m gonna blow you.” I lick his earlobe for good measure, and when I see his face it’s filled with pure lust and hunger. He’s as eager to get this reception over with as I am.

 

“I’ll hold you to that.”

 

“So you’re not angry? About Ryan and…”

 

He lets out a breath and smiles. “Nah. He was at the top of my list anyway.”

 

“If it makes you feel any better, he seemed kind of embarrassed about it. And he _did_ help me with the vows too.”

 

Peeta pulls me in for another kiss, but it’s brief this time. “That was the most incredible thing I’ve ever heard. Thank you for doing that.” His hands land on my hips. “I knew there was a reason I married you.”

 

_Married._ We’re _married_ now. I don’t feel any different. Should I? How are you supposed to feel?

 

“Hey.” Peeta breaks me from my thoughts. “You’re not freaking out, are you?”

 

“No. I’m freaking out over not being more freaked out. Is that weird?”

 

“It’s a _little_ weird,” he smirks. “But I love your weirdness.” His smile widens. “Wifey.”

 

I give him my best scowl, poking his chest. “Call me that again and I will end you.”

 

“Can I call you ‘frugan?’”

 

“What does it mean?”

 

He chuckles before answering. “The same.”

 

I don’t have to answer that. He knows.

 

“So what does ‘All makt åt Tengil, vår befriare’ mean?” I ask.

 

“Ryan didn’t tell you?”

 

“No.”

 

“It’s a line from a children’s book. Have you heard about ‘The brothers Lionheart?’”

 

“A little.”

 

“Well, the boy in that story idolizes his older brother. Ryan wanted me to do the same for him when we were kids, so he started calling me ‘Skorpan.’ That’s the little boy’s nickname. I didn’t like it so I started calling him ‘Tengil,’ the villain of the story. He’s kind of like a dictator in the land, and he has this rallying cry: ‘All power to Tengil, our liberator,’ which Ryan said whenever I called him that.”

 

“So that’s what it means.”

 

“Yeah. I guess my plan of getting back at him backfired, huh?”

 

“Looks like it. I just have one more question.”

 

“Shoot.”

 

“What does ‘Skorpan’ mean?”

 

“It’s ah... kind of like a biscuit.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“That’s cute.”

 

“No, it’s not,” he deadpans. “It sounds like a dog.”

 

I put both my hands on his chest, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. “Come on. You’re my little biscuit.”

 

He tilts his head. “Well, when you put it that way. If I can call you wifey.”

 

“Hmph, no.”

 

“Guess we have a deal then.”

 

* * *

 

The reception is every bit as boring and uncomfortable as I had expected. People making awkward small talk, and Peeta’s mom at our table isn’t exactly the life of the party. She’s still not keen on my marrying her son, but at least she’s not openly rude; she only ignores me. I’m fine with that.

 

Every moment we’re not eating Peeta’s hand is securely placed on my thigh, and once in awhile he sneaks in a kiss to my cheek. It earns him a glare from his mother, but he’s beyond the point of caring anymore, and so am I. It’s our wedding day, for fuck’s sake. She can deal with it, or she should have stayed at home.

 

I didn’t have time to get a proper look at Peeta earlier. My eyes were solely fixed on his during the entire ceremony, and I didn’t really have time to register what he was wearing. But now that I’ve had the last hour to stare I can honestly say that Peeta Mellark in a suit is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. The clean cut of the jacket over his shoulders and the way he fills out the shirt underneath makes my pulse pound in my ears.

 

Peeta idly starts stroking my outer thigh with his thumb, and the warmth from his hand spreads directly to between my legs, making me wet for him. I don’t even think he’s aware of how much this is turning me on, which only adds to the frustration. And excitement. The way he’s touching me makes it so very difficult to concentrate on the conversation at our table. What were we talking about? IKEA?

 

I pull out my phone, checking the time. We’ll have to stay here for at least another hour, maybe two. I can’t wait that long. I shift a little in my chair and subtly rest my hands on Peeta’s leg, my fingers grazing his inner thigh. I hope it looks like we’re only holding hands. After a minute or so he looks over to me, a question in his eyes.

 

_Yes, I know exactly what I’m doing._

 

So instead of removing my hand I slide it to closer to his crotch. My fingers are only inches from him, and I want to close the distance like I want my next breath, but I want to savor the moment too. It’s remarkably arousing. Even with his family here. A slight blush creeps up Peeta’s neck—he’s reacting exactly the way I want. When I finally let my hand slide over his already hard cock his breath hitches, but he quickly smooths it over with a cough.

 

He takes up his napkin, covering his mouth, and glances over at me. No sound comes out but he mouths “Are you trying to kill me?”

 

I give him a another stroke through his pants before retracting my hand. “I’m going to get some fresh air,” I announce, getting up from the table.

 

Peeta clears his throat. “You want me to come with you?”

 

_That’s the whole point of this._ “Yeah, sure.”

 

He takes his jacket from the back of the chair and folds it over his arm. We’re both silent as we walk through the room, managing to avoid any relatives. As soon as we’re outside I drag Peeta to the other side of the house; it’s facing a big lawn and there are no windows that someone could peek through.

 

He likes it when I take charge, so I push him back against the wall and press my lips to his. I plunge my tongue into his mouth as my hand quickly travels down his shirt and grips him through his pants.

 

“Fuck, Katniss,” he grunts in my mouth, and it’s the best sound in the world. We can’t be out here for too long, so I immediately unbuckle his belt. He lets out a hiss when I grab him inside his boxers. He’s hard, warm, smooth, and ready for me.

 

Picking up my dress, I drop to my knees making sure any grass stains only get on my legs.

 

“Here,” Peeta says, offering me his jacket.

 

“I thought it was a rental.”

 

“Fuck it.”

 

_Well, if that isn’t the hottest thing I’ve ever heard._

 

Putting the jacket on the ground, I rest my knees on it and get straight to business, licking his tip. I _want_ to take my time with this and kiss him all the way to the base and then slowly drag my tongue back to the head. But we have to be quick, so instead I take as much as I can into my mouth, grabbing him where my lips don’t reach.

 

“Fucking hell,” he exclaims, and it’s music to my ears. My hairstyle prevents him from threading his fingers through my hair, so they graze the sides of my face, tickling my earlobes. Placing my hands on his hips I start sucking him off, moving my head back and forth and hollowing my cheeks. I keep this up for as long as I can, and when my jaw starts to hurt I take a break, using only my hand. He’s slick, and my fingers easily slide over him.

 

I kiss the head and lick the slit before looking him straight in the eyes. He looks down on me with pure lust, panting and desperate for more. I love it. I love _him_. “Told you.”

 

Whatever response Peeta had to that dies in his throat when I take him in my mouth again, continuing where I left off. I bring out my A-game, trying to get him off as fast as possible using my fingers, lips, tongue. As much as I’m enjoying this I don’t want to face an entire room of people who’ve figured out what we’ve been doing. Ryan and Luke’s teasing after last midsummer’s eve is enough embarrassment to last me a lifetime.

 

Peeta’s getting close, so I wriggle one of my hands up underneath his shirt, scraping his hard abs and chest as they contract under my nails. That does it for him, and in a strangled cry he comes in my mouth. I swallow it all. Can’t risk staining his clothes or my dress. I keep licking him as he slumps back against the wall, letting out several heavy breaths.

 

“That was… Wow.”

 

His praise bring a heat to my cheeks, but I ignore it, giving him a quick kiss on the mouth. “We should get back in.”

 

“Yeah,” he says as he zips his pants. “Do I look presentable?” His cheeks are a little flushed, but that will come down before we’re inside. Other than that, there is no evidence that his wife—shit, I’m his wife—just sucked him off in the backyard.

 

“You always do.”

 

This earns me another smile as he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “I think… I think a few pins are off.”

 

“Shit. Can you fix it?”

 

“I don’t know. I grew up with Ryan and Luke. I know jack shit about stuff like this. I’ll probably make an even bigger mess.”

 

“Fuck. I need a mirror.”

 

“Then let’s go.” He takes his jacket from the ground, brushing it off before holding out his arm for me.

 

“Okay, Biscuit.”

 

“Oh, that’s gonna cost you.”

 

* * *

 

Peeta was right. My hair is a bit off. Oh, who am I kidding? It looks like I just gave someone blowjob. I try to pin it back up, but it’s no use. It’s only getting worse.

 

Fuck it. Instead of trying to save this mess I yank out all of the remaining pins. Who cares? We’ve already taken all the photos. I give myself one last onceover in the mirror, removing some makeup from the corners of my eyes before exiting the bathroom.

 

I barely have time to react before a hand grabs my wrist, pulling me to the coatroom. It takes me a second before I realize it’s Peeta.

 

“Peeta. What are you doing?”

 

He doesn’t say anything, only hushes me. Dragging me behind a coat rack he pushes me against the wall, exactly like I did with him outside.

 

“What—” He interrupts me with his mouth, pressing it against mine. His lips have magical powers because my whole body relaxes at his touch. His hand finds my cheek as the other grabs the fabric of my dress, pulling it up. It takes a couple of seconds before his fingers graze the outside of my panties.

 

“Already wet,” he purrs in my ear. “All for me?”

 

“Yes,” I whisper. I’ve been wet the entire night, and his fingers—or whatever, as long as it’s Peeta—is exactly what I need. He nibbles my earlobe, his breath tickling my skin as he pushes my underwear aside, letting me feel his fingers directly on me.

 

“You feel so good, Katniss. You make me so hard.”

 

Peeta is the best dirty talker, and at his words I instinctively roll my hips against his hand, seeking the friction. Whatever he’s planning on doing to me the answer is yes. I fucking crave him. So I hike my leg up his hips and he grabs it, opening me up for him.

 

When he pushes one finger in, a silent moan leaves my lips. He’s doing everything right. Trailing soft kisses against my neck, his hand slowly finger fucking me. I pull his face close to mine, kissing him. Hard. Muffled whimpers escapes my mouth as he works his magic on my pussy.

 

“You have to stay quiet, Katniss.” The way my name comes out of his sweet lips sends me one step closer to where Peeta is quickly pushing me. “Or everyone will know how you’re being thoroughly _fucked_ ,” he adds another finger, “in pretty much the same room.” Oh god, this man is both my destruction and my salvation.

 

His command has the opposite effect though, because I can’t contain the moan that escapes my mouth. Peeta captures my lips in a kiss, effectively silencing my. When his fingers pick up the pace he breaks the kiss, putting his mouth by my ear instead. “Do you wish this,” he pushes his fingers in harder, filling me in a way that only he can, “was my cock instead.” He licks the side my earlobe, and I’m putty in his hands. Of course I want that. If I could, I’d drag us both out of here and fuck his brains out.

 

The warm breath against the side of my ear is ragged—he’s so turned on by this too, and it makes it oh so much better.

 

Something comes out of my mouth, but I have no idea what it is. I don’t even know what I was trying to say, but at this point I don’t care. His touch is fucking addictive, and I’m desperately trying to find the release he’s frantically pushing me toward.

 

Planting my fingers on his chest I try to hold on to something, but my nails only scrape the fabric of his black suit jacket. I can still feel his hard muscles underneath it. Yes. More of him. More of what he’s doing. More.

 

When he pulls his head back, there’s a wicked grin on his face. I love his playfulness. I love him. I love this. I love—

 

Then his hand disappears. Before I…

 

I stare at him in disbelief as he straightens out my dress. “What…?”

 

Then he licks his fingers, smiling. “Mmmm.”

 

“What… You can’t just…”

 

“Oh, I can. You called me Biscuit. Now live with the consequences.”

 

I want to be angry with him, but I can’t. Not when he’s standing there looking so fucking sexy. It won’t get me anywhere. Instead I try to act rationally, pulling him in for another kiss and pushing my tongue into his mouth in an effort to convince him to continue what he was doing. He eagerly responds, sucking on my bottom lip and move my hips flush to his. I snake my hand between us, skating over his chest and stomach. I hook my pinkie in the waist of his pants, hoping he’ll get the message. But instead of helping me, he grabs my shoulders, nudging me back.

 

He moves his mouth to my ear, whispering “That won’t work,” then licks my earlobe before sliding his fingers down my arms and releasing me.

 

A pathetic moan leaves my lips, but it only makes his smile wider. He’s got me exactly where he wants me. Horny, hot, and desperate for him. He slides his thumb over my lips. “You know I’ll make it up to you.” He checks his wristwatch. “I think it’s time for the cake.”

 

I poke his chest with my finger. “You are an evil man, Peeta.”

 

He takes my hand and kisses the back of it. “We can probably take off after the cake.”

 

_Now_ he speaks my language. “But I forgive you.”

 

He doesn’t say anything. Instead, he pulls me to him, kissing my cheek with his soft lips. The warmth that always seems to radiate from him goes directly to my heart.

 

* * *

 

I don’t know if any of the guests figured out what went on in the coatroom. It feels like the evidence is etched on my cheeks, the heat that Peeta always brings can’t seem to leave my face. He assures me that I look great, but it’s hard to miss that my hair is now down. Thankfully, no one comments on it.

 

Peeta holds his hand over mine as we cut the first slice of the cake together. He stands behind me, keeping me from trembling. It’s nerve-wracking standing in front of so many people, cutting a cake. It shouldn’t be, but it is. I already messed up when we exchanged the rings; I can’t fuck this up too. So I’m grateful that Peeta makes sure my nervousness isn’t too obvious. We manage to put the slice on one of the small plates. We’re supposed to feed each other, and if it were only us I’m sure he’d tease me, purposefully missing my mouth, smear the cream all over my face, and then lick it off himself. But he knows how awkward I feel about this, so instead he scoops up a piece on a spoon and holds it to me, letting me take the bite myself, and I do the same for him. No grand gestures. I love him for it.

 

When most of the people have taken their own pieces and left us to our own devices, Peeta puts his arms around me and sliding his hands to my hips. “You think we can take off now without being rude?”

 

I’ve been waiting to leave since we got here. It _is_ probably rude, but I don’t fucking care. It’s our party after all. We decide when we can leave. “Yes!”

 

He takes my hand, guiding me back to our table, where both of his brothers and parents are sitting. “We’re gonna go now. Thank you for everything,” Peeta says before embracing every one of his family, while I just stand there, watching awkwardly. Then both Ryan and Luke approach me and give me one large group hug. They don’t have to say anything—I _feel_ the love. They have the same way of showing how they feel, without actually saying it, as Peeta does. They’re his brothers after all, so I shouldn’t be surprised.

 

His father also gives me a hug, but his mother doesn’t. Why would she? We don’t like each other, so why should we pretend now? In a way, I can almost respect her for not being a hypocrite, pretending that she’s happy about this only because it’s her son’s wedding.

 

We walk around the room and say goodbye and thank everyone who came. It’s a little awkward for me, but Peeta’s a natural, saving me from having to carry any conversation. Did I mention how much I love this man?

 

The cab ride to our hotel is short, but it I think it’s the longest ride of my life. The driver’s constant checking in the rearview mirror is the only thing that keeps me from straddling Peeta’s lap and ripping all his clothes, rental be damned. We’ve barely been alone today and I can’t wait for us to finally check in.

 

When the hotel door closes behind me, my hands find Peeta’s chest. Slowly, they roam over him, sliding underneath his jacket as he shrugs it off. He doesn’t say anything, but follow my hands with his eyes. Opening one of the buttons on his shirt I gently nudge him back. When he’s at the foot of the bed I push him harder, making him fall into it. He laughs, but his face morphs into something else when I hike up the skirt of the dress and put my knees on either side of his hips.

 

His hands find my waist, but I grab them and pin them over his head, my lips close to his. “You and I have unfinished business.”

 

“Oh, really? What kind of business?”

 

Fuck. He knows how to get me. I’m not a smooth talker like he is. But he doesn’t hold me to it. Instead he flips us over so that he hovers above me, his lips giving my cheek and neck soft kisses. “I’m only messing with you,” he murmurs against my skin.

 

Using one of his hands, he pulls up my dress, his fingers easily finding their way to the place I want them the most and continuing where he left off. And makes it up to me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation av Katniss' vows: I'm not perfect—far from it. I can't promise you eternal happiness because we both know things aren't always easy. We will fight and drive each other nuts, but you're my best friend, my equal, my partner in life. And I want to always be by you side. I love you.


	6. Sex – Little Saturday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted on tumblr for my friend Xerxia! <3

My eyes are burning, an intense pain surging through my temples and to my brain. When Peeta came home from work earlier I didn’t even hear him, and when he announced he was going to take a shower I didn’t have the energy to to join him.  _ Do I need some time off or what? _

 

“Rough day?” he asks as he sits down on the couch, putting my feet in his lap. His hair is still damp from the shower, a few strands almost covering his eyes.  A drop trickles down his cheek, making its way through the light stubble. If I wasn’t so tired I’d be all over that, licking and kissing it away.

 

“Rough doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

 

“Tell me.” His hands rub my right foot, and the effect is like cotton surrounding my tired brain. I love it.

 

“I had like thirty tests to grade today, and I forgot my glasses at home so now I have a major headache.”

 

“Sounds tough.”

 

He keeps rubbing my feet, and I let out a silent moan. Fuck, it feels so good, his strong hands kneading out some of the tension.

 

Peeta releases my feet, and I groan in protest. “I know what you need.”

 

What I need is this week to be over, and to catch up on my sleep. Preferably in his arms.

 

But he gets up from the couch, leaving my feet unattended. “Where are you going?”

 

His hands sifts through my hair, and I close my eyes. “I’ll be right back.”

 

It only takes a minute before he’s back, putting a glass of wine on the table in front of the couch. “Peeta, it’s the middle of the week.”

 

“It’s lill-lördag.”

 

“What?”

 

“Little Saturday.”

 

_ Uhm... _ “What?”

 

“In Sweden, Wednesday is called Little Saturday.”

 

“Why?”

 

“No idea, but it’s a great excuse,” he winks, taking a swig of his beer.

 

This is why I love him. Because he knows me, and always knows what I need.

 

I take a sip if the wine and the calming effect of the alcohol works wonders for me. I can practically feel the tension leaving my body. Sitting up on the couch I press a light kiss to Peeta’s cheek.

 

“Thank you.”

 

He doesn’t answer, only rests his head on mine, his warmth soothing me.

 

“So what do you guys do on real Saturdays?”

 

He shrugs. “Nothing in particular. Why? Do you have any plans?”

 

“Yeah.” My hand skates over his thigh, landing on his groin. I give him a stroke, and he hardens at my touch. “But I promise you, there is nothing  _ little _ about it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will be the last installment in this universe. Thank you to everyone who has read and left nice comments!


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